


Slow and Easy

by CaptainTarthister



Series: The Lannisters Are Coming [27]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Marriage, Romance, Sex Problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-04 20:43:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6674863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four months after giving birth to their younger twins, Jaime and Brienne attempt sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Afternoon Delight

Brienne did not feel them at first but as she looked at the calendar plotting her syllabus for the next semester, it hit her.

She had not fucked her husband for four months.

Four months.

_Four months!_

There was kissing. A lot of kissing. Touching. Cuddling. A lot, a lot, a lot. None of those times led to sex because she had little or zero interest, not to mention the bone-deep exhaustion from taking care of twin babies and running after older twin children. Seeing herself in the mirror was little comfort: her eyes, once so vividly blue, were droopy and dull. The circles under them were so dark she looked like a giant raccoon. Breastfeeding and exercise were slowly (too slowly!) giving her back her toned body. Being tall and naturally lean, she didn’t look so big but the weighing scale told her she had seventeen pounds to go. _Seventeen pounds !_ Ten of those were probably on her breasts—they were the size of melons, blue-veined and with nipples too sore to be enjoyed by her husband and always alarmingly engorged. She hated heavily-padded bras but as she didn’t want to draw any more attention being a six-foot-three giant, she had no choice but to strap on the blasted armours. Her stomach still bore several rolls of loose skin but thankfully, no silver marks from the pregnancy. Her thighs have always been thick but muscular. Now they were more thick and a lot less muscular but she could work on them. At least her legs remained toned.

Still, she didn’t feel the least bit sexy. Brienne knew how it felt to be desired, thanks to Jaime, but sexy was a feeling she didn’t tune into a lot—probably not at all. She had to admit that the extra boobage had introduced her to her new friend cleavage and they were getting along quite well. From the way Jaime’s eyes glazed over whenever she bent in front of him, he wanted to be introduced to her new best friend as well.

Suddenly, she was consumed by lust so desperate, so hot, it was like she was being burned alive in the airconditioned confines of the faculty room. A large hand flew toward her mouth as her nipples suddenly tightened and a heavy ache settled in her breasts. She knew how to distinguish the ache of breasts so heavy with milk and one that demanded Jaime’s kisses. Her slacks, flat-front and comfortably loose seemed to cling uncomfortably to her fever-warm skin. The press of the seam at the centre was almost, almost, almost like the first, teasing brush of Jaime’s wicked finger.

Trembling, she dug for her phone out of her messenger bag.  
2:00 p.m.  
Me: Hello, husband. Are you busy?

2:02 p.m.  
Husband: Meeting about to end. How’s my wife?

2:02 p.m.  
Me: I miss you.

2:03 p.m.  
Husband: Of course you do.

2:04 p.m.  
Me: So arrogant.

2:04 p.m.  
Husband: I miss you too. 

Brienne’s fingers paused. How could she say to Jaime she missed him a certain way but without telling him those exact words? Or did she have to embarrass herself?  
2:08 p.m.  
Husband: Wife? Wered you go?

Flames eating up her skin, she typed: I really miss you, Jaime.

2:10 p.m.  
Husband: I miss you too. Wish you’re here.

Sighing impatiently, she sent another message.  
2:11 p.m.  
Me: I really, really miss you.

Sweat sliding down her nape, biting her lip, embarrassed and horrified at what she was about to do, she added: _I want you to fuck me, Jaime._

Then she put the phone on her desk and wheeled her chair away from it. She caught her reflection in the window and saw she was as red as beets. 

Her phone rang shrilly and she jumped, nearly falling off her chair. She wheeled herself back to the desk, saw Jaime’s grinning, dimpled, criminally handsome face flashing from the phone. Heart in her throat, heart in her mouth, she whispered, “Jaime?”

“I got us a room at the White Dragon,” he growled in her ear. “Meet me at the lobby at three.”

“What? Jaime—“

“Seven fucking hells, wife, I swear if you don’t get out of whatever meeting or class you have I will personally drag you by your hair out of the room. You’re _a cruel woman_ to be sexting your poor, horny husband!”

Indignantly, she hissed, “I _wasn’t_ sexting!”

“Oh, `I really miss you, Jaime,’ `I want you to fuck me, Jaime’—Seven bloody hells, I almost came from reading that. And I was at a meeting with a new client!”

“You said you were almost done!”

“Are you free or not?” He demanded. She could see him now: a beautiful flush on his golden skin, emerald eyes heavy-lidded with desire. Where was he? In the office? In the restroom? Did he have a hand down his pants?

Brienne’s rapid breathing was her answer.

“Fuck, you sound like that when I’m kissing you. Stop torturing me!”

“I am so not!” 

“An answer, wife. Pull me out of my horny misery.”

Brienne took a deep breath. “I’ll see you at three.”

 

Jaime was all over her as soon as the elevator doors shut behind them. Usually, she’d tell him to stop and point out the cameras but his lips felt so unbelievably good, his hands were just plain wonderful and his _cock_ , hard, so hard, and pressed against her stomach—she wanted to weep with joy.

Bells rang gently, telling them they’d arrived at their floor. Jaime heard it—for Brienne, it was a dull, faraway throb in her ears. Though his legs were a little unsteady as he dragged her out, she was shaking all over and couldn’t put one foot in front of the other! 

Once the door of their suite was shut behind them, Brienne was all over Jaime. She hungrily sucked on his firm lips, his tongue, rubbed herself against his glorious, hard, muscular body. She pushed away his jacket as if angry at it. He seized the cheeks of her ass greedily and ground himself in the warm niche between her legs. 

Shoes flew. Shirts and blouses torn off. Buttons rained. Pants whispered down warm skin. Jaime’s green eyes gleamed mischievously before he suddenly upended Brienne toward the bed. Her shriek made him laugh, her body tumbling and bouncing on the mattress, tits swinging and legs wide open, made him painfully harder. He pounced on her.

 _“Jaime, I missed you so much,”_ she moaned before his mouth descended for an obscene, artless, hungry kiss that had her madder with want, with lust. Her long fingers speared through his golden blond mane. It wasn’t enough. She wanted him, so wanted him all over on her, with her, in her. She tore her mouth away from him and bit and sucked on the bunched muscles of his arms, licked the long line of his golden throat before nipping his Adam’s apple. She let go of his hair for a moment to grab the rock-hard globes of his ass, rubbed her legs against his muscular calves, enjoying the sensual burn of the curling hairs against her skin. Then her arms went to his shoulders to drag him down. A squeal escaped her as the rough hairs of his chest scraped her nipples.

“Gods, Brienne, I’ve never seen you like this,” he grunted. “Gods, _always_ be like this.”

The room was loud with the sound of wet, frantic kissing and sucking. She bit at his ear lobe, he sucked on the scatter of four freckles under the right side of her jaw. His name was a groan from her lips as he feasted on breasts long denied him, breasts that were his again. Over and over he licked and sucked her swollen nipples until they were red and on fire. Probably due to her heightened, insane arousal, milk began to bead from her nipples. “Don’t stop,” she wailed, clutching at his hair, arching higher, closer to his mouth. “Please, Jaime, don’t. _Don’t!_ ”

Jaime, who had always loved the small, shy buds that were her breasts, now saw there was much to enjoy with a full, voluptuous set. They could be pushed together, for one, so he did. He could tongue and suck them together, as well. _Oh, did he._

His cock, so hard it was a blunt weapon, reared against her thigh.

Brienne bent her legs and spread them, eager for the reunion of his cock in her cunt. His weight on his elbows, Jaime pulled back and began to slide into the parted walls of her womanhood. 

_Oof._ She needed to spread her legs wider. “Oh, Jaime,” she moaned as she felt him go in. Jaime’s cock had a full, round head that felt like a fist pushing inside her. Her husband was big but months of not fucking had made him seem bigger or was he still getting bigger? Her eyes, closed in rapture, flew open at the pain that began to burn as his cock, getting wide and wider toward the base, stretched and pushed inside her cunt. His mouth swooped down to hers, tongue pushing past her lips in tandem with his thrusts. He grunted, suddenly tearing away from their kiss. "Let me in," he demanded. 

“Jaime,” she gasped. “Oh—“

“This,” he suddenly dragged her left leg over his shoulder. “It will open you up some more. Fuck, did you get tighter?”

He pulled back and pushed in again. Harder.

_“Ow!”_

“Sorry. I’ll be more careful.” He kissed her on the mouth.

Again, he pulled out.

And slowly, very slowly, gritting his teeth, began to fuck her deep.

It was worse. Tears suddenly sprang from her eyes. “Jaime,” she whispered, nails digging in his shoulders. “Stop. It really hurts.”

Eyes widening in alarm, Jaime quickly extracted himself and embraced her. “Hells, I’m sorry, wife. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

Brienne felt as if she’d been stripped raw. But she shook her head. “I know you didn’t. It’s never been like this before.”

As she spoke, Jaime looked at her, concern on his handsome face. “Hold on. Let’s see if this works.”

Brienne held her breath as a long finger entered her cunt. She winced.

“Gods damn it. Brienne. You’re not even wet!” Jaime removed his finger as if burned. “No wonder you got hurt. Seriously, are you okay? Are you bleeding?” He spread her legs to check. Mortified, she quickly shut them closed.

His tone gentle, he implored, “Honey, I may have scratched you or worse. You have to let me look.”

She shook her head vehemently. “No. Jaime, you didn’t. I’ll know if you did, I think.”

"Don't be ridiculous and let me look," He growled at her. Resigned, she spread her legs, blushing. Jaime brushed back the dark blond curls of her cunt as he examined her. He gently prided her lips open. _She's so dry._ How could this be? Brienne was _so_ responsive she soaked her panties halfway through a kiss. He pressed a comforting kiss on her folds, hearing her sharp intake of breath. Then he sat back on his heels. They stared at each other, flushed and panting. It would have been funny—he with his cock standing straight up toward his stomach. But the worry on their faces and her protective, tender clutch of her legs toward each other was the truth. Taking pity on her husband’s condition, she said, haltingly, “Uh, I could, you know—I could turn around—“

“That will take me deeper. You can’t take me deeper right now, wife. You can’t take me at all.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice was small.

“Why are you apologizing? Hey,” Jaime put a hand on her cheek, prompting her to look at him. “Wife, this isn’t your fault. It can happen.”

“But I always get wet.” Her face was crimson as she said the words. “You like that I’m always dripping. You said it. Jaime, I want you so much, please believe me.”

“I know.” He pushed the straw-blond tangle from from her face. “I want you too. So much.”

“Alright.” She began to turn and raise herself on her hands and knees. Despite the lingering hurt in her big, sapphire eyes, she was also determined.

“What are you doing?”

Biting her lip, she murmured, “You can take me. Back there. Like, back there.” She couldn’t say the words.

Jaime’s eyes got big. _“What?”_ He roared.

“You need relief. I mean, look—“ Awkwardly, she gestured at his arousal.

“I’m not some beast so desperate for a rutting any hole would do. I want your cunt. I want to look in your eyes when we fuck. It’s a tempting, sweet offer, wife, but I won’t fuck you in the ass without lube.”

“You can spit,” she shyly offered.

“That doesn’t work.”

“We can call room service. Front desk. Whatever. This is a hotel. They'll get us anything.”

How desperate was Brienne? His shy Brienne would die first before ordering something as personal as lube from a stranger. And he spoke the truth—he wanted to be inside her and look in her eyes. He wanted to come with those eyes on him, he wanted her to come with him because she loved it. 

“I told you,” he kissed her on the forehead. “I want your cunt.”

“Jaime, please, let me do something.”

Before he could stop her, she was crawling toward him and nudging his cock with her nose.

She wasn’t as desperate or as horny as before but she did want his cock. Her hands rubbed the long, thick shaft, her thumb swiped at the fat white bead hanging from the tip of his cock. She had Jaime gasping as she mouthed his balls, licked at where they joined his cock. Her tongue was a greedy fire going up and down but her mouth—her wonderful, soft, full-lipped, wide mouth.

“You’re made for this,” Jaime cried out as her head bobbed vigorously. He buried his fingers in her short hair. “Brienne, you are _soo good._ My wife. My wife, oh gods. . .!”

He tapped on her shoulder to warn her of his release but she groaned, shook her head. 

Jaime swore loudly as he came in thick, gushing streams in her eager mouth. Brienne sucked him violently, fire in her beautiful eyes as they met his lust-ridden gaze. “Brienne,” he managed to gasp before surrendering completely to the warm ministrations of her wonderful, _beautiful_ mouth.

After resting for a bit, they tried again. Jaime got her wet with his tongue and fingers. Brienne spread her legs wider than she had before, hoping things were alright. Jaime smiled, kissed her hungrily on the mouth as he began to pump in and out of her. Moist, they discovered. Hardly wet. 

A grimace crossed her face. “Jaime, stop.”

He froze. “It still hurts?”

She nodded.

Brienne wanted to cry as he removed himself completely from her. She felt a loss that went beyond the physical. Jaime stretched out beside her. His body was as tightly coiled as hers way.

“Brienne?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Hush. Stop it.”

“But, Jaime—“

“I said stop it.” He put an arm around her waist. Kissed her on the shoulder, the cheek. “This is not your fault, is that clear? This happens. After birth, even when it's been months, some women are still sore.”

“But it’s been four months.”

“I know. But until we talk to a doctor we’re going to hold off on fucking. I don’t want you hurt. I especially don’t want to hurt you.”

“But lube—“

“What of it?”

“It might help?”

Jaime sighed.

She looked at him. “What?”

Sheepishly, he admitted, “Do you really think I’d let some product get my wife wet?”

Blushing, she whispered, “You can kiss me. . .like you did. Like you enjoy doing a lot.”

“I will. But that’s not enough.”

“I really want your cock, Jaime.”

He kissed her. “And I’m mad for your cunt but we’re going to hold off on fucking until we see a doctor, wife. Like I said, I don’t want you hurt. And you’re not with a fucking brute who can only think with his cock.”

Though disappointed that their afternoon did not finish the way she imagined, Brienne felt her heart beat at Jaime Lannister’s rough but well-meaning, tender words.

He put his arms around her. As if reading her mind, he murmured, “Sleep, wife. And remember I love you.”


	2. You're Ridiculous And I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime forces Brienne to talk.

“Wife.” Jaime rapped his knuckles on the door. It was a difficult manoeuvre. He held a squirming, four-month-old Jay on one arm as he calmed the agitated three-year-old Ty, who was chewing on the leg of his tailored, expensive slacks, with a pat on his head. He made sure that the crib containing a sleeping Mike was within his line of vision, as well as Drew, who was swooping his toy dragons in the air while making growling sounds. 

“Open the door, Brienne. Stop being ridiculous.”

“I am ridiculous!” He heard Brienne wail from behind the bathroom door. “I’ve never had problems with sex and now my hormones are shot, I’m horny but it’s painful when you fuck me!”

Jaime clamped his even teeth around his lower lip. On the one hand, it was fucking delightful that his usually-proper wife was far from careful with her language with their children around. And on the other he was annoyed and would beat the door until it broke if not for the children demanding his attention right now. 

Early in the afternoon, they had seen a doctor, a GP by the name of Dr. Pycelle. Brienne was resistant to the idea of letting a complete stranger know about their problem until Jaime pointed out that if they didn’t tackle this head-on, it was going to balloon into something bigger and with irreparable repercussions. Still, she was tight-lipped as he hauled her to Pycelle’s desk. Seeing that their doctor was positively ancient with his bushy cap of white hair, thick white eyebrows and heavily-lined face made Brienne clearly more uncomfortable as she fumbled with describing the pain she felt during sex.

Jaime was far from embarrassed. Part of his enjoyment was Brienne’s owlish, horrified expression and tomato-red face as he walked Dr. Pycelle through every step of their fucking (“I sucked on her gorgeous tits and she screamed so I thought she was dripping,”). The other was Jaime Lannister did not believe in holding back. Unlike his wife who held on to propriety with an iron fist and hid behind the language of “vagina,” “penis” and “intercourse,” he went head-on with “wet cunt,” “cock,” and said that word for what it was—“fucking.” Dr. Pycelle was unfazed, taking down notes.

The old doctor deduced that hormones played a big part in arousal. Despite the rest of Brienne’s body being ready, her vagina clearly wasn’t. He asked if she was anxious, if she was tired. Brienne admitted being feeling tired but quickly clarified that she felt tired with Drew and Ty before but she and Jaime “resumed sex and it was normal.”

Pycelle nodded again, made more notes. Then he looked up and said he’d like Brienne to be examined by a gynaecologist. She might have been stitched wrong, for one, and it was best that they checked things off the list before taking the next step.  
The gynaecologist, to Jaime and Brienne’s horror, turned out to be a man: Dr. Qyburn.

He was in his fifties, judging from his receding hairline and the deep wrinkles around his eyes. He had the demeanour of a contemplative monk, and wore a starched lab coat rather than a hooded cloak. Jaime didn’t care. Seven Hells he was going to let another man, though a professional, a doctor, touch his wife’s cunt. Brienne, pale and flushed, looked to him for help. Unfortunately, there was no other gynaecologist available, not for another two hours. Jaime assured her with a kiss that he won’t leave her alone with the doctor. He held her hand as Dr. Qyburn asked Brienne about her lat period date and if she was using any contraceptives. 

To be fair to Qyburn, he smiled reassuringly at Brienne before politely asking her to put her legs up on the stirrups. He told Jaime to remain with his wife as he examined her. Brienne stared at the ceiling as Qyburn probed her gently, his gloved fingers touching her clinically. He asked if she felt pain as he touched her and she mumbled no. Brienne tried not to squirm as he used a speculum on her for a more thorough examination. More probing. Every time he asked if he was hurting her, she mumbled no. 

“There’s nothing wrong with the stitching, Mrs. Lannister,” Qyburn said, straightening up and removing his gloves. He pulled off his mask. Brienne quickly shut her legs and sat up. “Or anything. I have to agree with Dr. Pycelle. It’s hormones.”

“Hormones.” Brienne said the word as if it’s a curse. “What can I do?”

“The state of our hormones affects our mood and vice versa.” Qyburn explained to her. “I see from your chart that you’d just given birth. Twins. Twice the work compared to one baby. You can’t help but be tired and anxious.”

“I may be a little tired but I’m certainly not nervous about sex with my husband,” Brienne said firmly as she took Jaime’s hand in hers. He squeezed it.

“It may not be sex with your husband but something else.” Qyburn told her. “It might be that you’re worried about waking up the children. Or about work. Other things. Sex is the most natural thing in the world but there are times when you have to put a bit more work than usual. And just because things are natural it doesn’t mean they’re always easy or seamless. Nothing is one hundred percent all the time.”

“So what do you think we should do?” Jaime asked as Brienne smoothed her gown down her legs.

“Relax. Find a way to shut yourselves from the world even for a while. Realize that when you have sex, it’s not just about sex but connections, intimacy. Trust. And focusing on the person. Believe me, worrying about your next lecture or about children’s lunches will not help at all. Sex is your time together. Claim it and make sure it really is yours.” He added that lube would also help, provided it wasn’t oil-based. 

They left the hospital with Jaime thinking about the many ways he could get Brienne to forget the world and concentrate only on them. Brienne apparently hit upon the ridiculous notion that it was her fault her hormones had gone awry. After greeting their children and seeing Taena to the door, she locked herself in the bathroom.

“And if you think you’re going to fuck me anytime soon, newsflash, Lannister: you’re not!”

“That isn’t hormones talking, Brienne. You’re being inexplicably petty and too sensitive. Where the hell did you get the idea it’s your fault? It’s no one’s fault. Pycelle told us it happens!”

“It’s never happened to us before! _To me!_ ”

“Nothing is as the same as before! Nothing in this world is!” Jaime knocked on the door louder this time. “Open the effing door, wife.”

Ty tugged on Jaime’s pants leg. “What’s effing, Dad?”

“Seven Hells,” Jaime swore. Jay let out a gurgle.

“I’m fat,” Brienne moaned. “I’m fat! It’s been four months and I’m still a whale. My breasts are freakish and even I can’t control my hormones! Me, Jaime! It’s my fault and we’re never having sex again.” Her voice broke. Was she crying?

“Brienne.” Jaime was gentle this time. “Honey, please, open the door. I don’t like us talking like this. I hate to see you cry.”

“That’s why I’m in the bathroom, you idiot!”

Ty, hearing his mother clearly, laughed and pointed at Jaime. “Ee-dee-yut!”

Jaime sighed loudly and shook his head at his son. “I’m your father. That makes you half an idiot. Supposedly. But lots of times, you wonder if it’s more than half.”

“We won’t be having sex again and you’ll leave me.” The words sounded like they were torn out from her heart. 

Jaime stared at the door helplessly. “Wife. Please. You have to let me in. Let me help you.”

“What’s wrong with Mommy?” Drew, done with his dragons, stood behind Jaime and tugged at his other pants leg for his attention. “Daddy, what did you do?” He crossed his arms and looked at his father suspiciously. 

“Fine! Here I am trying to talk sense to your obstinate, stupid mother and it’s my fault!” Jaime exclaimed in frustration.  
“Fooo,” Jay blew him a raspberry.

“Mommy doesn’t cry.” Ty said.

“You’re mean, Daddy.” Drew told him.

“The Seven eff me hard,” Jaime groaned, leaning his head heavily against the door. “Brienne, please. I don’t like you thinking such things. Why would I leave you? And what the hells makes you think the sex will stop?”

“It’s painful! It’s like. . .oooh, it’s like being scraped with an Emery board!”

Ouch. Still, Jaime pushed, “That’s why we were told to spend more time on foreplay. And to relax. This isn’t relaxing, wife. And damn you for thinking I’ll leave you. There is no reason, there is no way in the world I will even think of leaving you, you gigantic idiot. You make me want to tear off my hair sometimes but I don’t want anyone else. I couldn’t love anyone else like I love you. Please, open the door.”

 

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when Mike suddenly woke up with a cry. Jaime froze, holding Jay to his chest tightly. He turned around to check on his other son when the door the bathroom opened and Brienne, her eyes bright with tears and her cheeks streaked with tears and splotchy, came out.

Mike continued to cry until she was bending towards him on the crib. Jaime watched as Brienne rub a fist on her eyes before putting on a brave smile for her son. She picked him up, cooing and making baby noises that Mike seemed to like because he stopped.

“What is it?” Jaime asked, beginning to make his way to her.

“He’s hungry,” Brienne answered as Mike began rubbing his head against her chest, little fists grabbing her breasts. “Hold on, sweetheart,” she murmured, firming her embrace as she strode toward a rocking chair. She sat down. One hand around Mike, she unbuttoned her blouse then lowered the detachable cups of her bra. Jaime groaned at the sight of her breasts so swollen and heavy with mik. Milk for their children. _She thinks herself a whale? She’s a goddess,_ he thought. 

Brienne held Mike, offered him a breast and he latched on eagerly, clumsy, wet sounds filling the room. 

Watching Brienne smile tenderly at their son as he fed was truly a touching sight. There was a light in her sapphire eyes and her happy, crooked smile, while it did not make her beautiful, did strange, wonderful things to Jaime’s heart. Mike, small and vulnerable, looked the safest in her strong, freckled arms. It drew air from his lungs sharply, made his chest clench.

He got Drew and Ty to start playing with their dragons again. Jay had fallen asleep in Jaime’s arms so he put him back in the crib.

“Brienne,” he said, dropping on one knee before her. Mike continued to suckle from her actively. He kissed her legs then looked up at her. “Hey,” he prompted gently, noticing she was avoiding his stare. “Wife, look at me.”

Flushing, she turned her beautiful eyes to him.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself,” he whispered. “You can’t help it. Sex is going to be tricky for now but you won’t hear me complain because there’s nothing to complain about.”

“But what if it keeps on hurting, Jaime?” 

So this was her concern. Her eyes looked hurt and her voice was thick with worry and anxiety. 

“It won’t. That’s why we keep trying. More foreplay.” He couldn’t help teasing her. “About time you realize it’s not so overrated, wife.”

Brienne blushed.

“I’m worried sex would be so different.”

“It is always different, wife. Every time. It's always better.” 

“You know what I mean. What if. . .what if it’s not. . you know. It _was_ always great.”

“You also know what I mean. And wife, it’s just going to get fantastic from this point forward. Trust me.”

She nodded while a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

“We’ll take things slowly. Remember, they told us to invest more on intimacy rather than the sex itself. There’s no need to rush and pressure ourselves needlessly.”

Brienne looked to be at war with herself before she blurted out, “You’re right.”

“I’m sorry?” Jaime chuckled. “Did you just tell me I’m right?”

“Don’t make too much of it. It’s the first and last time you’ll hear me say it.”

“Fuck. I should have made it my ringtone.”

“Don’t say fuck—you know what I mean!” Brienne growled as Jaime burst out laughing. She glared at him and turned her attention back to Mike. “Really, husband. I can’t believe we just had this conversation with our child between us.”

“And he would remember and know nothing of this day. Please. He doesn’t even know where his nose is.”

Jaime stood up and pressed a quick kiss on her forehead. As he turned, she called on him.

“Jaime? It’s going to be okay, right?”

Gods, his wife could be so adorable. 

“Better. Much better than you expect.”

Brienne believed him. Jaime had never broken a promise to her, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about being a doctor or gynecology. But I did ask a friend for the barest help in this because she's one. :-)


	3. Wash It All Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime have a confrontation in the shower.
> 
> Angst before the smut.

It was two weeks of re-building intimacy, as Jaime described it. He pointed out that they haven’t done anything together since the babies were born—not even grocery-shopping. So they resumed their nightly talks, where they sat on the kitchen counter and had wine, though Brienne only had a cup of tea and Jaime half a glass of red wine.  
Jaime liked touching Brienne—it was touching goodness itself. He liked skimming his fingertips on her freckles, loved the warmth of her skin against his palm. But he was beginning to notice that while she let him touch her on the cheek, the shoulder, squeeze her knee, there was the teeniest, telltale stiffening in her spine when he snuck a hand under her shirt to caress her back. It happened quickly—too quickly, that one had to be practically wired to Brienne to notice it. And he had spent a good deal of time cataloguing her expression to know when something was wrong. Precisely what it was, he had yet to find out. 

Brienne was actually frustrated with the baby weight that remained. After giving birth to Drew and Ty, she carried the extra weight for a while but they rolled off with little to no effort at all due to breastfeeding and the stress of her new job. She was breastfeeding and it had contributed to the weight loss but the extra seventeen was determined to stay. 

In the bathroom after a long day, she chucked off her nursing bra with distaste, the last item of clothing she removed from her body before heading to the shower. Her breasts jiggled heavily with every step and she hated the brushing sound her thighs made as they brushed against each other. 

The warm, comforting jets of water from the showerhead were soothing her stiff neck and aching back when she heard the door to the bathroom open. Pausing mid-soap, she squeaked, “Jaime? Is that you?”

The door slid open and she shrank against the wall, hands instinctively covering her breasts and cunt. Jaime, golden and looking like a god wearing only his handsome face, skin and muscles, cocked an eyebrow at her. “We’re gonna need to have a serious talk if you expect anyone else besides me, wife.”

“W-Wha-What are you doing?” Brienne stuttered as he stepped in and shut the door. His cock, thick and full despite being at rest, swung as he moved. She swallowed and raised her wide blue eyes quickly. 

“I need a shower and I want to see my wife. Hand me that soap, will you? I’ve been out on location shoot all day.”

Shaking, Brienne barely managed to hold on to the soap until he reached for it. Jaime stood right under the powerful surge of water and began to clean himself. She watched him, mesmerized at the play and strain of his muscles, the way water slid down his sleek torso sensually. She clung to the wall when her eyes fell on wet pubic curls, rendered dark gold, his cock, water dripping from the edge of it. 

As Jaime finished scrubbing his skin, he turned to Brienne. A lopsided, dimpled grin spread across his face. “What are you doing all the way there? Get over here. Let me wash your back. You’re acting like an outraged virgin, wife.”

Burning cheeks had her looking away. “Um, I was going to finish.”

“Then finish with me. And you still have shampoo on your hair and soap on your lovely breasts.”

At the mention of her breasts, she covered them.

Jaime shut off the shower. His expression was grim.

A cloud of warmth lingered but since Brienne was pressed hard against the wall, she felt cold. She continued to cover her breasts. She wished she wasn’t naked right now—not in front of Jaime, anyway, who was so perfect every bloody inch. 

“This isn’t the place to talk about it,” Jaime murmured, looking at her carefully. “But I’ve noticed things.”

Brienne looked away. “I really should finish.”

“Why are you covering yourself? You know how much I love looking at you.” His tone was mildly reproachful.

Brienne, head lowered, eyes on her feet, muttered something incomprehensible.

Jaime took a step toward her. “Brienne?”

Sighing, flushing wildly dark pink from forehead to her chest, Brienne dropped her hands from her breasts. She stuck out her chin and looked at him squarely in the eye. 

“You like looking at me?” She asked.

“I love looking at you.” He ran his palm down from her broad shoulder down to her arm. 

“Jaime, I—“ Brienne looked like she was going to argue but she shook her head. Jaime could her hear mental gears grinding. “I’m going to look like this for a while.”

“Hmm?” He asked, distracted as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, pale breasts swinging. Then realizing what she said, he frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not losing weight!” She burst out. “I was back to my normal weight three months after giving birth to Drew and Ty. It will be the fifth in two weeks and I’m still. . .I’m still fat!”

_“What?”_

Angrily, she grabbed at the roll in her stomach and glared at her epic-sized tits. “Look at me!” She demanded, grabbing at her thighs and shaking her buttock roughly. “Gods, Jaime, how can you still love looking at me when I look so. . .so. . .” Her voice choked.

“Like what?” He asked softly, though her outrage had shocked him. To meet her anger with equal outrage would do little in diffusing the situation. As Brienne slumped against the wall, he probed, “how can I not love that you look like the mother of my children? That you’re my wife? How do I still love you when you look exactly like mine?”

“I’m so frustrated with how my body is,” Brienne confessed, sounding both desperate and helpless. “And it’s terrible because I’m not beautiful and have no right to be vain—“

The last words died in her throat as his hands, large and strong, cupped around her shoulders, urging her to face him. She had turned away while speaking. Through the warm mist that lingered in the shower, she saw Jaime look at her with concern.

“Wife. Brienne.” He said, drawing her away from the wall and towards him. He cleared the bubbled streak of shampoo from the corner of her hairline and temple. “First of all, you are beautiful. Your eyes are so astonishing that there won’t be enough words to really describe them. You’re smart and you’re admired. People respect you. You love our sons so much that seeing you do so makes me fall in love with you over and over again. And your heart. You didn’t have it easy, Brienne, but you’ve never stopped yourself from loving. You’re brave. You have the courage of a dozen lions. How is that not beautiful?”

As he spoke, he rubbed the lingering traces of soap from her body, leaving her slick. She needed to rinse but there was time for that later. This was why, they both knew now. Her anxiety was not over their children or work. It was how she couldn’t see herself as any bit of sexually appealing or attractive due to her extra weight. Ridiculous, in Jaime's opinion. But he knew women. Any additional weight, even as little as half a pound, convinced them they were fat. 

“You’re not fat. You are carrying around a couple of pounds—“

“Seventeen is not a couple—“

“I’m actually trying to make you see sense, wife. I’d love it if you don’t interrupt. It’s good, I promise.”

“Fine.” She sighed heavily. “Okay.”

“I’m not bothered about them, wife. Honest. Oh, you lack more grace than usual but at least the waddling is gone. And I wish you’d see yourself the way I see you. You look so bountiful and ripe—“

She scowled at him. He glared back at her.

“—that I’ve gotten more boners than usual just thinking about your breasts and this,” he pinched gently the small roll on her stomach. “You have no idea how dirty my thoughts went thinking about what I want to do to your stomach. I love how soft your body’s become. You’re still magnificent but you’re a lot easier to hold now. Every time you walk and your tits jiggle and wife, it’s a new kind of torture. _Believe me._ Or when you wear skirts or your pants or your jeans—hells, _anything,_ I just think how squishy and soft this is—“ he cupped the cheeks of her ass and drew her hard against him. Brienne caught her breath at the lust darkening his eyes, the green only a small ring as his pupils enlarged. “We’ve always liked it rough. I know you like it when I fuck you hard and now that you’re soft, _so soft,_ I can’t _wait_ to fuck you harder. Show you absolutely no mercy. _Be inside you for days._ I’ve been hating myself wanting to fuck you at all hours because it hurts you right now. I’m a horny son of a bitch—“

Brienne shook her head. Then, surprising them both, she put her arms around him and kissed him on the lips. 

Usually, they devoured each other. The kiss they shared this time was gentle, almost shy, very sweet. The most tender brushes of lips. The slightest caress of tongue. Her head falling back as he surged against her, holding her slick body, wanting to scoop every plane of her flesh and keep it pressed against him. She hardly felt the cooling slab of the wall behind her, consumed as she was by the heat of their kiss, the hot riot of blood in her veins. Her heart. Her heart with its pounding, thundering beat. 

_You are wanted,_ his kisses told her. _You are desired. You are loved. Loved above all._

She could weep.

Instead, she kissed him harder, pouring into every contact of their lips her love, her apology for thinking so little of him and of herself. She cupped his face, the trimmed shadow of his beard rough in her palms yet she still held him and placed one adoring kiss after the next on his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his temples, the laugh line at the corner of his eyes that formed as he chuckled softly against her throat. 

His lips roamed her shoulders, tasted her freckles: soap and woman. It had been so long. Too long. He didn’t want to let go. He raised himself away from her, eyes dark, darkening even more at the sight of her skin flushed to the colour of raspberries, her eyes dazed and heavy-lidded with desire, mouth swollen, her breath coming out in rapid, hard plumes. His hands drifted to her breasts from the sides, cupping the full mounds before claiming her mouth in a kiss that said there had never been a beginning for them, nor an end. This—all of this moment, before and after—has always been. 

They took turns tugging at each other’s lower lip between their teeth, raking their teeth across the reddening, swollen tissue. Jaime nibbled on the hard line of her jaw, covered the long length of her neck with kisses before lowering his head to take a nipple in his mouth. 

Brienne, breathing harshly, gasped, “Jaime.”

“I love it when you say my name,” he groaned.

His mouth moved to the other nipple, sucking, kissing it, laving his tongue over and over on the swollen berry peak. Her fingers, clutching at his hair, loosened as he lowered to his knees until he could dip his tongue in her belly button. 

“So soft,” he murmured, biting playfully at the roll of flesh on her stomach then sucking it. “Gods, Brienne, do you have any idea how this drives me insane?” He slapped her on the buttocks, grinning as the flesh shook.

He delivered a series of playful slaps on her ass, enjoying how she jumped and gasped. He sucked on the soft flesh of her right cheek before releasing it with a loud pop. A purple-red mark from his lips remained. Good. He'd cover her with more later.Then he was pushing her back against the wall, looking up at her—a supplicant before his goddess.

“How do you feel?” He asked her.

“Uh,” she blushed because he was sniffing the rough curls of her cunt appreciatively. “Good. I guess.”

“`Good, I guess’? Wife, you have to give me better than that.”

His thumbs pressed on the lips of her cunt and gently pried them apart. His eyes widened.

“Seven hells,” he whispered.

Her inner labia was glistening.

He could see the drops of her arousal sliding down. Glittering like diamonds.

Brienne was soaked.

Stunned at the beauty before him, Jaime raised a shaky hand towards her cunt and slowly, carefully, slid a finger towards the stiff, red button of her clit, flicking it. Above, Brienne hissed, startled at the sparks of pleasure the little touch ignited. More liquid diamonds dripped down from between her lips to her thighs.

Most encouraging, Jaime thought, circling his finger around her clit, watching the rapture that slowly spread on Brienne’s face. Keeping his eyes on her, he pushed a finger inside.

Warm. Soft. Wet.

So very wet. 

_“Jaime!”_


	4. Scream, My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne at the carnival.

Drew and Ty now had normal sleeping hours. and Michael sometimes slept through the night, sometimes they woke up every few hours. On the night Jaime and Brienne tore the last wall between them, their sons left their parents alone by having sweet dreams until morning. Fortunately—since Jaime was indeed relentless, reclaiming what months of doubt and insecurity had taken from him, and Brienne had a hunger that would only be abated for a while before it spiked again and she craved her husband with a newfound madness yet again.

Brienne woke up first. Jaime lay half on top of her, snoring softly in her ear, a hard arm and a muscular leg thrown over her as if he worried she’d slip away in the middle of the night. The growing heaviness in her breasts had awakened her. In the freezer was bottles of her breastmilk but as much as possible, she preferred to feed her sons with her breasts. The bond took her breath away.

She got her husband’s gray flannel robe with dark red piping, wincing as the fabric abraded her sore and leaking nipples. Two wet spot stained the robe by the time she left the room, checking in on Drew and Ty first, who were still huddled deep in their blankets. Jason and Michael’s room was next door and when she arrived, they were already squirming and gurgling in their cribs. A quick peek in their diapers told her they needed changing. “Ouch, be gentle with Mama,” she whispered to them as she easily picked them up despite the pain in her breasts. They grasped at her breasts, eager for the nourishment promised there. She shook her head and put them on the changing table.

Their diapers were heavily saturated so she cleaned them first, cooing and laughing as they squealed and threw their fat fists and feet in the air. She nuzzled her nose in their fragrant bellies, kissed them all over before she slipped on the diaper and taped it securely. By then her aching breasts were demanding immediate relief and she had to struggle to not swear in front of her dear babies. 

“Ah. So this is where you’ve run off to,” drawled Jaime from the doorway. He was leaning against it, looking like a well-satisfied rake with a lock of his golden blond hair falling over his high forehead. He was dressed in a rumpled t-shirt and even more rumpled pants. His pants, very old and threadbare, emphasized rather than concealed the hard jut of his erection.

Brienne smiled at him, basking in the pleasure of his lustful gaze on her messy hair and her body clad in a loosely-knotted robe. “Help,” she called to him softly.

So he went to her, his grin transferring to their sons before he picked up Michael in his arms. He wrapped a hand around Brienne’s nape and kissed her, which caused her breasts to leak more milk. She gasped, mouth opening and her husband, naughty bastard that he was, snuck a quick flick of his tongue against hers before letting go. Head reeling, she barely managed to take Jason and walk on shaky legs to the rocking chair.

She sat down, loosening even more the knot of her robe. Jason quickly grabbed her breast and wrapped his small lips around her nipple. Jaime gave her Michael next and he was as eager as his brother to feed. She sighed at the gentle tugging and sucking motion of their lips and tongue on her nipples, their hands squeezing her breasts for more milk.

Jaime leaned back against the dresser, crossing his arms. Brienne was so consumed with their sons, smiling happily as they suckled hungrily from her, that she didn’t notice Jaime’s expression. It was a mix of hunger and envy, of pleasure and awe. As the chair moved gently under Brienne, her robe began to fall further open.

“You really are a temptress, wife,” He groaned, finding himself breathing harshly as the long length of her freckled thighs came to view. His smile was gentle as she shot him a withering look, her face a vivid pink. 

“I forgot to put on more clothes.”

“We should have Naked Saturdays,” Jaime suggested, his eyes settling on her face before caressing down her neck and her breasts, big and overflowing with milk that their sons were sucking noisily. “Clothes should be illegal on you, wife.”

She rolled her eyes. She was still very conscious of her extra weight but Jaime’s compliments were too much, too ridiculous. Seeing this skate on her face, he murmured, “Oh no. The Naked Saturdays is not for your benefit but mine. You have four months to make up to your poor husband.”

She snorted. “Right. You’re poor.”

“I’ve been very destitute without your love,” Jaime said with mock solemnity. Brienne burst out laughing, which had him throwing his head back and joining in her mirth. It felt so good to laugh, and much better with her husband.  
“I have missed you, Brienne,” Jaime admitted after they calmed down. His voice was quiet. “But I didn’t want to initiate because I wanted to give you time. I didn’t think for a second that you needed reassurance.”

“None of this was your fault!” She exclaimed softly. How could he think that? “If anything, it was my—  
“  
“Nor was it yours,” he said firmly.

They looked at each other, understanding clear in their eyes. 

“But we need time to ourselves,” Jaime straightened up from the dresser, dropping his arms to the sides. He grabbed a stool and sat down by her legs. His finger drew soft circles on her knee that had her breathing deeper. “Every now and then, we have to try and forget that we have four children. Which is a lot easier said than done. But we have to remember us, Brienne. We must learn to also concentrate on just us, sometimes.”

She knew what he meant. “I’d like that. Very much.”

“So. . .any plans tonight?”

 

The Sunset Carnival by the pier of King’s Landing was breathtaking at night. Its sparkling lights could be seen even from far away, and one could even hear the distant screams and shouts of people horrified and thrilled with the rides they were on. 

A carnival was the last place a man Jaime’s age ought to be, let alone on a date. When he and Brienne talked about going out, they wanted to go to a place where they could relax, actually have fun and maybe do something they haven’t done before. That ruled out dinner at Wyman Manderly, where Jaime, being a Lannister, had a standing reservation. They could go see a movie anytime, also for coffee, dessert, fencing, the museum. The Lannisters could be described as creatures of habit but when they wanted to do something new, they wanted to do it together.  
Brienne had gone to carnivals as a child but when she was older, skipped them entirely. The association of the place to freaks made her more aware of her too-tall height and unfortunate features, hence why she turned to books in the first place. Now that she was with Jaime, she knew to expect only the best of times. Jaime confessed that for his and Cersei’s twelfth birthday, Tywin had rented out the entire Sunset Carnival. All was great until Tyrion got sick from too much cotton candy. Cersei’s Ferris Wheel carriage had gotten stuck high up in the air, making her hysterical. Tywin wasn’t too pleased that his children had embarrassed themselves in public so the party was cut short and no more carnivals ever since. 

Jaime couldn’t resist kissing his wife sound on the cheek. He felt like a giddy schoolboy of fifteen, holding hands with the girl he liked and looking forward to kissing her under the light of the moon before the night ended.  
The wind was strong coming from the sea, giving a pleasant chillness to the air along with a subtle hint of sand. Since it was a Saturday, the carnival was crowded—of which Brienne was glad because no one took really notice of her but she grinned at the longing looks the women threw at Jaime. Dressed only in a navy blue t-shirt, gray jeans and sneakers, Jaime Lannister cut a rugged, head-turning, handsome figure. His emerald eyes twinkled as he steered Brienne towards the game booths. 

“The first of us to win a prize gets to decide which scary carnival ride we’ll go on,” he whispered in her ear.  
She butted her forehead against his. “Get ready to get your pants wet, husband.”

Unperturbed, he retorted, “Or maybe it’s you, wife.”

She smirked and, unbeaten, shot back, “Prepare to lose.”

As promised, she beat him in three out of five games of the crossbow shoot. He pointed out it was just one booth and steered her to the next. He beat her in four out of five in the Milk Bottle game. For the darts-and-balloons game, they drew a tie.

Playing made them thirsty and hungry. Jaime, who didn’t believe in depriving himself, went right for the hotdogs, soda and cotton candy, consuming them in such quantities that Brienne would feel sick looking at him if she weren’t enjoying her own share of cotton candy and soda as well. She had also slathered her corndog with a thick layer of mustard.

They sat on one of the picnic benches available. As Brienne attacked her corndog with gusto, smearing mustard on the corner of her lips, Jaime smirked. 

“You like what you’re eating, wife?”

“Uh-huh. It’s so good.”

She was so endearingly clueless. Jaime took her cheek in his palm and leaned forward to lick the mustard. Her gasp drew his entire body taut and he clutched, the lick transforming into a kiss that moved to her cheek, to her ear, then back to her mouth. She tasted of corn dogs and soda, and there were threads of cotton candy still stuck on her tongue. “Um—“ she started to protest but he cupped her face in his hands and sucked on her tongue. 

The kiss was wet and sloppy and definitely not fit for public viewing. Taking pity on how Brienne kept on squirming and pushing against him, murmuring that there were children around, Jaime pulled his head away but put an arm around her. 

Brienne blinked at him, breathing quickly. He could feel a sermon mounting up and he was not going to apologize. “Look at you,” he whispered, taking her hand and kissing it chastely. “Tell me how am I supposed to resist you?”  
The wind had ruffled her hair, once again a cap of pale blond locks that could never settle properly on her skull. Since the night was slightly cooler, her freckles had receded, somewhat, except for some splashed around the bridge of her nose and her cheeks, her throat, down her arms. She was wearing a green-striped t-shirt dress with short sleeves and a skirt ending just above the knee and white sneakers. She looked fresh and relaxed, with a shine to her eyes that he hadn’t seen in a while. 

Her face as red as a stoplight sun and her eyes silver from desire. Still, she snorted, “You are not going to distract me from the scary ride we’re to take on, husband. I won.”

He shook his head.”You forget that I bested you in the Milk Bottle game. I won.”

Brienne opened her swollen mouth to protest. Jaime cocked an eyebrow, daring her to do the math. As realization fell on her face, she rolled her eyes, “Fine, husband. You’ve won. But I don’t know which of the rides here could even be deemed scary,” she added looking around them dismissively and shrugging. 

“Oh, I know exactly where to take you on. Care to make another bet? First to scream stays at the bottom the next time we fuck,” he said. Brienne scowled.

“No fair. You were already on top the entire time last night. It’s my turn.”

“You’ll have to fight me for it.”

“First to scream stays at the bottom, does whatever the winner commands regarding about sex—“

“Fucking.”

“Fine! Fucking.” Her ears were beet-red now. “And will serve the winner breakfast in bed for one week. I would like to eat waffles for one week, husband, just so you know.” 

“I don’t see why you’re telling me,” Jaime retorted, shooting to his feet and gently pulling her up by the elbow. “We both know I’m going to win again.”

“That cockiness is your doom, Lannister,” Brienne told him, tweaking his nose affectionately. He pretended to snap his teeth over her finger and she giggled.

Jaime shook his head and tugged her towards the rides. She burst out laughing when he took her before the Ferris Wheel, shot him a dirty look when he steered her to the carousel, yawned when he took her to the bump cars. He pointed to the long line for Dragonrider. Brienne looked at it. It had two a long wall stretching probably at least a hundred feet in the air, with two seats. Riders were strapped on the seats securely before they were thrown high in the air before plunging down dramatically, quickly, before suddenly lurching up again—on and on it went for a minute and a half. It was not the ride somebody went on with a weak stomach and stuffed full of cotton candy. 

Brienne tilted her head up at it. “Boring.”

“I knew you’d think so,” Jaime said happily. He was bursting with excitement by the time he pulled her toward the last ride, the piece de resistance. “And my lady deserves only the best. The scariest. May I present Loop Around the Harpy?”

Brienne was smirking at him until she turned toward the ride he was gesturing. 

Seven Bloody Hells.

Loop Around the Harpy was a rollercoaster that even the Stranger wouldn’t have thought of. It was the kind of thing that would have the Stranger himself cowering.

She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and glanced back at her husband. Serious blue eyes met mischievous green. “Alright, husband, being that you think this will scare my shit off. Prepare to be disappointed.”

“I would rather it scares off your panties,” Jaime told her, grinning. “That wouldn’t be disappointing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who do you think won the bet?


	5. Your Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times, fluff, some dirty talk and tickles!

Frantic, pitched breathing reverberated in the room. Brienne, a large hand on Jaime’s chest, pumped her hips frantically, matching him thrust for thrust. His heart was a strong, fast, vital rhythm under her palm, guiding the tempo of her movements. As she arched, spine bowing beautifully, her hand slipped; he grabbed it and sucked on her fingers before suddenly yanking her toward him, easily catching a swollen nipple in his mouth. She groaned out his name, a strangled sound that unbelievably got him harder and he was already deep in her tight, near-unforgiving sheath. He knew her body well though all its secrets and mysteries had yet to be unlocked. But he knew from her sudden, wheezing squeal, her nails digging in his shoulders, that she was close. He gritted his teeth and thrust sharply, _popping_ through the last impossible grip of her cunt before he was home. 

Brienne threw her head back and shrieked.

As white sparks and gold bursts of light danced in front of her eyes, she felt the warm gush of Jaime’s release flooding her womb, her cunt walls squeezing hard around his cock. His arms, banded firmly around her back, were all that kept her upright, as well as his tongue tasting the freckles on her throat, his lips briefly sucking on her nipples before he rested his forehead against her chest. They were flushed, more so Brienne. Leanly muscled, evenly-matched, the identical gleaming skin from their sweat and exertions, they looked like warriors that barely escaped their lives from a skirmish; the battlefield was their bodies where both emerged victorious. 

Wrung out, gasping, Brienne slumped against Jaime, the force and weight of her body pushing him toward the headboard. He grunted but his arms tightened even more around her. His breath was warm against her sweaty throat. 

It had been a week of heavenly, amazing sex. She couldn’t get enough. Neither could he. There was still some discomfort but it had greatly diminished. Jaime theorized that her insecurities about her weight gain had made her uncomfortable so he made sure to remind her she was an amazing, bewitching and very desirable woman. The sweet intention behind his outrageous, and more often than not, very inappropriate, vulgar compliments (“That round butt of yours makes me hungry,” "Your sweet cunt is the best dessert," "I'd like bacon with a side of tits," ) made it impossible to not fall harder in love with him. 

Brienne had won their carnival bet. Jaime was glad—his favorite position was with her on top—but her elation was short-lived when she realized just how exposed she was going to be. She was heavier and bigger than before, after all. That couldn’t be denied. Yet Jaime absolutelyp loved being crushed under her broad, softened thighs. He got violently aroused seeing with how her newly-plump (albeit, temporary) breasts, jiggled harder as they fucked. He thrust in her so hard that _she saw stars._

Boy, did her body love it.

She had wanted to amend her demand for waffles all week but he reasoned that he intended to make sure she burned all the extra calories in bed. It seemed to have worked—she was down to two and a half pounds. Jaime, lecherous as ever, had pretended to pout and weep over her breasts last night, clutching and sucking on them while bemoaning how she would lose her tits when the weight came off. “And just as I was getting used to my new pillow,” he pretended to complain, earning a playful but too-strong shove from Brienne. 

Weak and heavily limp from her orgasm, Brienne was still seeing giant, bright spots as Jaime began to manoeuvre her so she was lying under him, legs sprawled wide carelessly. As they kissed, she reminded him, “I still get to be on top, husband.”

“My turn now,” he whispered, licking her lower lip before nipping it. “You’ve had your week on top. It’s now the weekend.”

As he settled more fully on top of her, she had to admit that Jaime felt good. She liked that the new softness in her body meant that the hard angles of his could rest easily against hers, be cushioned. She stretched lazily as he licked down her neck, nibbled on her shoulder. He was still inside her, half-hard now but knowing him, he would be ready to go again in a short while. 

“Besides, I so look forward to turning the tables on my very naughty wife,” he continued, his lips trailing back up to her throat to playfully gnaw on her chin before settling on her mouth. She teasingly tugged at the locks of his golden hair. 

Brienne bit her lip, flushing. Aside from breakfast servitude, she had also demanded that her husband forego underwear for the week. She had also blindfolded him, given him a tongue bath that had him trembling and gasping her name before sucking on his cock. She also tied his arms to the bedposts and tortured him with caressing her own body as she fucked him. Their cries were so loud they scared Ty, who thought he was having a bad dream. It had been very awkward comforting their son with their bodies still humming from fucking. Brienne had hastily put on a shirt but no bottoms while Jaime, despite his shorts, still had an erection. 

“My naughtiness was the result of being deprived,” she whispered back, nuzzling her nose against his throat. He smelled of sweat and fucking and it made her stomach flutter.

“Nah, you truly are a naughty wench,” Jaime grinned at her before pinching her nipple. She gasped and hissed his name. “And I intend to show you just how naughtier and much more imaginative your husband is going to be.”

“We didn’t talk anything about how you’ll be getting back at me,” she pointed out.

“Strongly implied. A given.”

_“A given.”_

“What made you think only you get to have fun?” Jaime rested his head on her shoulder and lazily plucked at a swollen, tight nipple. “Absolutely no underwear for you this coming week, wife. And all skirts. The shorter the better.”

She scowled. “Husband, I kind of need a bra. Unless you want me spewing all over the place.”

Jaime considered then said, “No panties, then.”

She blushed. He grinned. “It’s so cute how you still blush. Never stop, wife.”

“It’s a lot easier to move around in pants,” she grumbled.

“Yeah, but to fuck you, I have to take them off. “ He licked the underside of her breast. “In a skirt, I could just easily fuck you and don't have to worry about logistics like that.”

“Seven bloody hells, Jaime, you make it sound like it’s a major event or something.”

“Of course it is.”

Suddenly, he raised himself up on elbows. He caught her wrists in his hands. His cock began to lengthen and thicken as it continued to rest inside her. “Jaime,” she whispered, closing her eyes at the sensations of her cunt struggling to accept him inside. Her legs went around his waist, ankles locking at the middle of his back. 

_“Un-fucking-believable_ how much I want you again,” Jaime groaned, surging against her. “Even more that I can take you again, that quickly. Fuck, Brienne.” His breath bathed her mouth and she opened her eyes, her eyes smoky. “How are you still tight?”

Seized by uncharacteristic boldness, she whispered, red blooming in her cheeks, “Aren’t I always tight? Or maybe it’s because you are too big for me?”

Jaime hissed, “Gods above, wife. Fuck. _Fuck._ ”

He rained kisses on her face and took her to the edge with breath-taking ease. He smothered her cry in his mouth, pinning her to the mattress until her body softened and slowly wrapped around him.

She was sprawled on her stomach a while later, head cushioned on his chest, when a familiar cry from the monitor roused them awake. Together, they groaned; she shifted and pressed her nose against his armpit, nuzzling the golden curls while he grunted and hissed that she was tickling him. He sighed loudly as she continued to murmur sleepily. His arms and legs went around her strong, soft body.

As the crying in the monitor continued, she whispered, raising her head a little, “It’s your turn, husband.”

He groaned and flung an arm over his eyes. “No, it’s your turn.”

She giggled and poked him sharply in the ribs. He jerked.

“Seven Hells, Brienne!”

“Get your lazy ass off the bed and feed our sons.” Brienne continued tickling him on the ribs, drawing one outraged gasp after another from Jaime until he gave in to laughter. He cursed at her, trying to get her off him, but she took advantage of her bigger size and pinned him down. Soon, they were laughing hysterically.

Her short pale hair falling over her cheeks as she leaned over him, she whispered, “It’s your turn, husband.”

“Can’t you do it this time?” He pleaded, yawning. His breath hit her right in the nose, dry with a note of fading toothpaste. She winced.

“My tits could use a break. And it really _is_ your turn.” 

His eyes, though sleepy, sparkled with mischief. “What’s in it for me if I get up to feed them now?”

“You really have no concept of taking turns, do you?”

He shook his head. 

“Idiot.”

“Ah-ah-ah, Brienne. Remember. You chose me. Who’s the bigger idiot between us now, huh?”

“Jaime, our sons are getting hungry!” Brienne sat up and yanked him up. He pulled on a t-shirt and stepped into a pair of worn boxers. She lay back in bed, watching as he tripped and stumbled his way out of the bedroom.  
Before he left, he turned to her. She narrowed her eyes.

“I’m getting up to feed our sons, wife. But no sleeping.” He winked at her. “Now that I’m wide awake, I’m inclined to do something. . .very vigorous to get back to sleep. Of which I expect you to be a very active participant.”

Then he closed the door. 

Brienne sighed and stretched. She rolled to his side of the bed and breathed in his scent from his pillow. It smelled of sweat, aftershave, soap and musk that was pure Jaime— _head-spinning, heart-in-the-mouth, knee-weakening, butterflies-in-the-stomach-Jaime._ She hugged his pillow and smiled happily.

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love this relationship. GoT 6 better give me BANG CITY!

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, I couldn't get this out of my head. And hey, everyone has sex problems!
> 
> *Jaime' wrong spellings while texting are intentional.


End file.
